


Blue Goes On Without the World's Understanding

by Byacolate



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: M/M, Orlan Watcher, Trans Male Character, Wild Orlan Watcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: Tekēhu does not often oppose his mother, but often enough.





	Blue Goes On Without the World's Understanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scoobertdoobert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoobertdoobert/gifts).



> A commission for scoobertdoobert with his beautiful wild orlan Watcher, Moth.

The Watcher would lose himself when he looked at Tekēhu, sometimes - and not in the way in which he was accustomed. At the beginning it was not so strange, but in time Tekēhu learned to identify this faraway state for what it was. 

 

“Oh, that,” Edér had said once, when the Watcher’s eyes glazed over the crumpled form of a long-dead elf. Edér was already fishing through its pockets. “Yeah, he does that. You get used to it.”

 

And again, some weeks later when he stopped to stare at nothing over a bloated corpse. “Hm?” Aloth had hummed at Tehēku's inquiry during another pause in the catacombs of some derelict tomb. “Yes… that. Surely even you must know the traits which make a Watcher.”

 

“Fye, and all the ling’ring trappings that come with’t,” Aloth continued in his second, more spirited tone. 

 

Tekēhu came to learn that the strange look about the Watcher came when he mingled with the dead. So then, why then did it sometimes cross his face when he was looking at Tekēhu?

 

The answer he did not expect was naturally the one he received, though it was months in coming. 

 

“Your mother.”

 

Tekēhu had enjoyed the mating dance he’d been spinning around his captain. He was quite sure it was reciprocated, though at times it could be difficult to tell. It took Tekēhu some time to discern that their leader was not coy by nature, but taciturn instead. 

 

His hand paused where he’d lifted it to tease the silken strands of fur at the curve of the Watcher’s ear. The bustle of the tavern around them was raucous, to be sure, but not so loud that he could have misheard such a thing. They were standing very close, after all; Tekēhu leaning against the bar, the captain seated on a high stool beside him nursing a pint of spiced rum. Though the captain preferred to keep a silent vigil over most things, when he spoke his voice carried weight. Tekēhu could not have misheard the direct answer to his inquiry.

 

“My mother -” he began, but just then a shout rose around the stage. A dancer had pulled Aloth in, and neither Edér nor Serafen nor Maia seemed keen on rescuing him. 

 

The Watcher sighed through his nose and slipped off the stool and out of Tekēhu’s reach. “Are you going to watch?” he asked, his quest for answers all but forgotten. The Watcher glanced at him. Now Tekēhu was much improved at reading his face, and he could see the slight uptick of his eyebrows, and a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

 

“No.”

 

He approached the stage, presumably to rescue his awkward charge. Tekēhu took his drink and the Watcher’s to follow him from the bar. He  _ did _ intend to watch.

 

Tekēhu was reminded to ask again some months later when the Watcher stood gazing at him with glazed eyes in the Kahanga Palace. Their accommodations were stately, warm and comforting, and Tekēhu was glad to finally have a bed beneath him that fit his mighty stature. He was even more glad to finally have a wealth of privacy to share with his captain. 

 

In the candlelight, the Watcher’s lantern eyes glowed where they were trained just over Tekēhu’s head. With a little harrumph, Tekēhu dropped finished untying his robes. He tossed off his bracelets as well, and the wealth of necklaces around his neck, the jeweled adornments around his calves. Finally, he spread himself over the blankets, tugging at a strand of hair as he waited for the Watcher to return to him. 

 

“I say, you worry me at times,” he said when the Watcher finally blinked. He grinned to show that he was only needling for sport, and received a soft look in turn. “You mentioned this before,” he went on as the Watcher unsnapped the belt at his waist and began undressing himself. “Or perhaps that was me. Do you recall? We were in the tavern many tens of days ago - ekera, I believe that was me after all. I asked you what you saw when you stared at me so, and you said…”

 

“Your mother.” He stepped out of his boots, and was even shorter without the heel. His armor went next, then his breeches. He crawled into bed in his tunic and smalls. “I remember.”

 

Tekēhu waited for him to elaborate before he remembered that he likely would not. As discussion of his mother did not put him in a terribly voracious mood, Tekēhu resolved to sate his curiosity quickly so that they could move on to more carnal matters. “Is that who you see hovering over my shoulder?” he teased, delving a hand beneath the Watcher’s tunic to palm over his furred stomach. “My mother?”

 

“It is.”

 

Tekēhu blinked. “Truly? Is this so?”

 

“Truly.” 

 

Tekēhu sat up, tempted to look over his shoulder himself. “You… that is extraordinary! I - I see Her in the waves, of course, and in the shining scales of every fish, but that is metaphor.” He laid down again, hovering eagerly over Moth’s form. “Tell me, does She speak to you?”

 

The Watcher’s amusement cooled. “Oh yes.”

 

“And tell me, what does She say?”

 

The Watcher considered him for a moment. Eventually, his lips parted. “Many things.”

 

Tekēhu rested his forehead against the orlan’s shoulder before he sat up again. “I say, this is not the time to be reticent! If beloved Ngati has words and wisdom for you, I would hear them as well.”

 

The Watcher’s hands lifted to his face. Neatly filed claws tapped over the scales of Tekēhu’s cheeks. “Your mother does not want me for you. What do you think of that?”

 

All the joy in Tekēhu’s heart fled. Brow furrowed, he spread a hand over the Watcher’s chest to feel the comforting patter of his heart. “She told you this? In so many words? What say?”

 

“She did not leave it open for interpretation, Tekēhu.” Seeking comfort as well, tendrils of Tekēhu’s hair curled around the Watcher’s wrist. “I have spoken with her many times before I met you. She was ambivalent before. Now she truly does not care for me.”

 

This was distressing for Tekēhu. With his all-seeing eyes, of course the Watcher noticed. He lifted another hand to Tekēhu’s face, and more writhing tendrils anchored him there. “I feel… distraught, captain.”

 

“You oughtn’t.” 

 

“But of course I must!” Mindful of his mass, Tekēhu rolled himself half over the Watcher, propped upon his own elbows between the Watcher’s legs. He longed for closeness to speak further than his words might carry. “Ekera, I am deeply wounded to hear it, for I…” He frowned. 

 

The Watcher sought further answer in his eyes, and Tekēhu grappled for the correct words. This was rarely a challenge, for Tekēhu knew only how to speak that which was his heart’s own truth. 

 

“It matters not.” The Watcher’s words may have been meant to grant him a reprieve, in more ways than one. “She likes to meddle in affairs that She considers her own. That is Her way. It may behoove me to listen when Ondra speaks, but She does not dictate that which I do. Or who.”

 

He must have known Tekēhu would be tickled by his joke. Yet, this matter was a serious one. The smile fell from Tekēhu’s face again not a moment later. He held the Watcher’s eyes, fingers carding through the deep blue fur of the Watcher’s chest. “I am deeply wounded to hear it,” he says again, “for it is a thousand shards of glass to my heart to know that my mother is blind to what I can so clearly see.”

 

The Watcher’s lips were so soft and warm, his furred face brushed delicately over the scales around Tekēhu’s mouth. Tekēhu raked his nails down the apex of the Watcher’s chest to his belly, then cupping him between his thighs. Moth twitched and cursed, delving his fingers into Tekēhu’s impassioned hair.

 

He was already wet within his smalls, and he growled low in his throat when Tekēhu caressed his pearl like a treasure. His teeth were sharp when they sank into Tekēhu’s bottom lip, though never so fiercely that they drew blood. Tekēhu pressed two fingers inside him as he sucked Tekēhu’s lip into his mouth, releasing it to pant hotly against his jaw. 

 

Tekēhu longed to tease him for being so slick, so ready for him, but sincerity stayed his tongue. This was not simply a coupling in a rented room, or a playful romp in the captain’s quarters. The weight of their discussion held his brevity at bay. There must be words between them that meant more. 

 

“Come on,” grunted the Watcher, nudging Tekēhu’s arm aside with his foot. He divested himself of his smalls and locked his meaty calves around Tekēhu’s waist. 

 

Though it was a stretch, Tekēhu hunkered over to kiss him between the ears before the Watcher found his body’s straining ardor and guided it inside of himself.

 

Sighs of satisfaction melded into impatience as Tekēhu kept the rhythm of his hips slow. He tightened himself around poor Tekēhu, gripping sharply at his back and encouraging nigh-on demanding he set a faster pace. Little did he know how Tekēhu gripped the pillow above their heads to ground himself so! How eager his captain was to deny him the labors of his great love!

 

“Need you a written invitation, Tekēhu?” he mumbled into Tekēhu’s broad chest, grinding himself up against him. Tekēhu had to laugh, pressing his sweaty forehead to the bed as he shook with it. 

 

“I am making a point.”

 

The Watcher made a noise indecipherable even to the Watcher-scholar Tekēhu’s ears. “To who?”

 

“To - does it matter?” Oh, how he longed to press his little love’s belly to the bed and fill him fit to bursting. But he had a point. He must, or he would not restrain himself so. He yelped when the Watcher squeezed so tightly around him that even the gods must have seen stars. “Cease! I h-have a point to make to, to you!”

 

“There is only  _ one point _ I desire in this moment.”

 

Tekēhu really ought to wrangle out of the Watcher his favored and most beloved deity, for there must have been someone Tekēhu could thank for how chatty this night had made him. He shook again with laughter, bending down to press his nose to the Watcher’s wild hair. The deep familiar scent of him was a comfort to Tekēhu’s nerves. His grip on the pillow began to ease. 

 

He sat up on his knees gazing down at the Watcher below him, sprawled and panting, vulnerable and speared upon his - Focus!

 

“My captain,” he murmured, pulling the Watcher in by the hips until he was fully seated. The Watcher eyed him with cold fire, with passion and bruised disdain. With a hand circling a furry thigh, Tekēhu’s thumb traced patterns and shapes about the Watcher until his mouth went slack, his eyes glazed over in a manner far more flattering than the one before.

 

When he came apart around Tekēhu, it was with little fanfare. There was a silly and beloved look upon his face and a noise was wrung from the depths of him that made Tekēhu throb and ache within the warm cradle of his body. 

 

He swallowed once, then again, drawing the Watcher through it before his own eyes fluttered shut. He gasped, pushing another noise out of the Watcher as he pressed into him again and again until the nails over his belly did him in. 

 

Deeply moved, as he often was with their union, Tekēhu gathered the Watcher up once they parted. He held him close enough that they might as well be one. “Ekera,” he breathed against a soft cheek, “with you I dance upon the precipice of the profound.”

 

No hand on either side of the Wheel might change that. And if Ngati loved him, as he knew with all his heart she did, then she would look beyond herself to see it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing a high fantasy comic about a wandering bard! [Check it out from the beginning HERE!](https://bardbouquet.tumblr.com/post/179195348759/a-dwarven-heirloom-a-blade-in-the-dark-and-a)
> 
>  
> 
> "Blue is holy. Blue goes on without the world’s understanding. And the heart… the heart can’t wait. Revolts without understanding. Boom. Goes on. Without the world’s understanding." — Tennessee Williams
> 
>  
> 
> My Tumblr: [wardencommando](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).  
> Details about fic reque$t$ [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/post/175675914506)  
> 


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